Vicodin Like Flynn
by bardvahalla
Summary: House agrees to seek therapy in order to avoid a lawsuit. Prequel to The Body's Guest


Vicodin Like Flynn.

Bardvahalla (2005)

(House seeks therapy, at the Hospital's expense, in order to avoid a lawsuit.)

THE REQUEST:

She agreed immediately, of course, although the initial reaction had been one of suspicion.

"Therapy?"

"Yes," House said.

"With a real certified doctor of psychiatry?"

"Yes," House confirmed. "With a real certified doctor of psychiatry."

Cuddy tapped her pen against the desk, unconvinced. "With a real certified doctor of psychiatry whose name and degree I can verify and isn't really a forged invoice from some 1-900 sex chat number?"

_Haven't tried that yet._ House filed the idea for later.

He pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket and tossed it on her desk. "This guy is good. If legal insists that I have to talk to somebody, then I want to talk to him."

Cuddy's fingernails clawed at the card like a lifeline. She read the name, her mouth dropped. "Dr. Keller Dean?" Her eyes narrowed. "You chose the most exclusive and expensive shrink in the state?"

"He's also very verifiable." House twirled his cane around impatiently. "and he'll cost less than a lawsuit."

"I can name a dozen other very qualified-"

"It's Dean or nobody." House stopped twirling. "Maybe he'll offer a discount in exchange for some hot pictures of a twenty-something 'Partypants' in lingerie."

A faint flush swept down her face, neck and over her bosom. "I never show have showed you those."

"Hey, I understand." House said sympathetically. "Med school is expensive. I would have done cheesecake shots too, but Christine Hefner never returned my calls. Stuck up bitch. What did Burt Reynolds have that I didn't have?"

"Ten one hour sessions to start." Cuddy glared at him. " AND I get doctor/patient privileges as to the progress of your treatment, especially concerning prescriptions. Deal?"

House hesitated, then agreed. "But only if I can have a set of those photos. I especially liked the filmy black number. Woof!"

"Don't push me, House." Cuddy grasped a stack of printouts and proceeded to ignore him.

House opened the door. "Use a plain brown envelope when you slip them to me. That way no one will suspect."

THE FIRST SESSION:

Dr. Dean adjusted the digital recorder and began. "So. Dr. House - " He did not smile as he reviewed House's file. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Gosh," said House unenthusiastically, "Where do I begin? The injury that destroyed my life, libido and will to live, my hellish childhood or the sex crazed colleague currently stalking me at work. You choose."

Dean took a moment and digested House's tirade. He cleared his throat. "What made you decide to book an appointment?"

"Well, the threat of a large lawsuit played a large part."

"Lawsuit?"

"I said something mean to a patient, and they agreed not to sue the hospital if I agreed to get counseling for my 'confrontational issues'. So I'm here because of the insistence of the Hospital's legal department, the board of Directors and a number of not so subtle threats from the patient's marital partner. See, Medusa is buds with Jesse Ventura – he owes her a favour or something. But that's nothing. I have Mob connections. They don't scare me, but when I tried to tell that to the Board they just looked at me funny."

A long pause and Dean made notes. "I'm curious. What did you say to the patient? Verbatim."

Greg thought back. " "Next time you poke a 5 dollar hooker, make sure you use an 89 cent condom". Or something to that effect. "

"Uh–huh. And the patient was diagnosed with – "

"HIV and Hep B. He told his wife he got it from blood transfusions years ago, but he's lying."

"How do you know he's lying?"

"If you contacted STDs and needed really expensive drugs to live, but your wife was the real bread winner in the family who had your balls in a vice and you knew she would dump you in a heartbeat for cheating on her, wouldn't you lie about it?"

"That doesn't prove he lied."

"He lied."

"How can you be sure?"

"I also checked the blood records. The batches he was given had no record of contamination. He lied so I made the comment about the hooker - just before his wife walked into the room." House threw up his hands in mock apology. "Oopsie. My bad."

Dr Dean scribbled notes on his pad. "Was the wife tested?"

"She tested negative for everything. It's obvious they haven't been had sex for years. That's the other reason I knew he'd been going to a hooker."

"How did you know they hadn't been having sex?"

"Her medical records didn't indicate any current birth control methods. No tubal ligations. He hadn't had a VAS. She past prime to have kids but she was way too uptight to take chances on getting knocked up so I deduced no num-nums for hubby."

"So you insinuated he'd been seeing hookers and they initiated a lawsuit?"

"And here I am. Did I mention I'm also dependant on Vicodin and several girlie magazines."

The left corner of Dean's mouth failed to hold back a smile. Scribble - scribble - scribble. "You listed other issues - your injury, your relationships, your childhood. Was there anything specific you want to discuss?"

House reached into his pocket and pulled out his bottle of Vicodin. "There is something I need to talk about - y'know, mano a mano?"

Dr. Dean met House's eyes. "Of course. Anything."

"Oh, go ahead and call me Greg." House leaned back on the soft leather chair, swallowed a Vicodin and relaxed.

"Very well - Greg."

"I need to know…" House took a deep breath, "Is it just me, or was that last Panthers – Patriots game a total piece of sex?"


End file.
